


In the Moonlight

by emilysmortimer



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilysmortimer/pseuds/emilysmortimer
Summary: They’re the last to leave, and they’ll make the most of it.
Relationships: Will McAvoy/MacKenzie McHale
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	In the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Beginning it with a smutty one - I hope you enjoy!

It’s become a regular occurrence, the two of them being the last to leave.  
  
Their days have gotten longer, their work loads seemingly never ending, their sleep schedules suffering greatly. And she knows it’s not just them, knows the entire staff team is struggling alongside them,  _ for _ them. And for how supportive they’ve all been, she finds herself mothering them as of late; finds herself sending them home one by one, despite their protests, when they look ready to drop; finds herself strolling into the office at 8am with a tray of bagels and enough coffee to get the entire team through the morning.   


And then long after everyone else has gone home, she’ll make her way to his office, hover in the doorway until he spots her, glances up at her with a loving smile and beautiful eyes rimmed with dark circles. He’ll shut down his computer, collect his belongings, and trudge over to her, limbs heavy with exhaustion. He’ll press a breath of a kiss to her forehead before ushering her out of the office, his hand finding hers and not letting go until they’re home.  
  
This evening, however, she doesn’t come.

He’s been sitting at his desk since the broadcast ended, typing away manically at his computer, smoking cigarette after cigarette (she’ll scold him for it later, he knows, but he’s too stressed to care right now) and idling over a glass of scotch.  
  
Since then, Maggie has popped her head round the door to say goodnight, Jim has caught his eye through the window of his office and waved a goodbye, and Sloan has interrupted him briefly to offer him a rare hug and to instruct him to head home soon.

That had been an hour ago now.  
  
An hour since the newsroom had cleared out, leaving just himself and Mackenzie behind. An hour since the hustle and bustle had quietened to a near silence, offering him a brief reprieve from the whirlwind of the day. An hour since he’d last checked the clock, expecting his fiancee to make an appearance within minutes.

And still, she’s yet to show.  
  
He frowns, momentarily confused by her absence, shuts down his computer as he readies himself to go and find her. He collects his things, shrugs on his coat, and switches off his desktop lamp before vacating his own office and heading over to Mackenzie’s.  
  
Though her blinds are shut, a faint glimmer of light is noticeable beneath her doorway. Will knocks, waits a moment for her to grant him entry, but when he doesn’t hear the light lilt of her voice beckoning him in, he pokes his head round the door to find out why.  
  
“Mac?” he calls into the room, though he’s unsure of why because it’s evident from the moment he opens the door that she’s not there. 

It’s unlikely she’s gone home; not only will she always tell him if she’s planning to head out before he’s finished, she’s so overcome with stress, and her workload is so great that he knows she wouldn’t risk leaving too early through fear of having to play catch up come tomorrow. It’s also unlikely she’s gone upstairs considering Charlie’s already packed up and gone home for the day.  
  
Will hunts around for her for a while, shooting her a text that she most likely won’t receive considering he’s fairly certain he saw her phone on her desk earlier.   
  
It takes him a while, but he finally finds her out on the terrace. He catches sight of her dark hair but it isn’t enough to give him pause so he almost walks right past her. But he doubles back when he realises it’s her, curled up in a chair and visibly shivering from the cold (he can tell as much, even with the heavy double doors blocking his view).  


He goes to her, opens the door slowly as not to startle her, though she still jumps when he calls her name.  
  
She doesn’t turn, doesn’t really acknowledge him, and he’d think she hadn’t heard him at all if it wasn’t for the slight rise of her shoulders. He crosses the terrace in swift strides, his concern evident on his face as he comes to stand in front of her, blocking her view.  
  
“Mackenzie?” he says again, his brow furrowed. She finally looks up at him, and her dark eyes are rimmed red, her lashes wet, her cheeks stained with tears she had quite clearly tried to hide. His face relaxes from one of confusion and concern to one of sympathy, and he breathes her name once more as he squats next to her chair.  


“Billy, your knees,” she begins to scold, though it’s half-hearted, lacking any real fire. He shakes his head, takes one of her hands in his, steadfastly ignoring her complaint and focusing only  _ her. _   
  
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, shedding his coat because she’s still shivering and is unlikely to agree to his suggestion that they go inside. He wraps it around her, and it absolutely swamps her in a way that he’d consider adorable did she not look so vulnerable.   


“Just looking at the stars,” she tells him with a dreamy sort of smile, and he follows her gaze up to the sky above them. There’s little to be seen, a few clusters here and there, the lights of the city below drowning out the majority of the sky, but he plays along, knowing better than to push.  
  
He rises, takes her hands in his own and pulls her up from the chair, and she goes willingly despite a protest rising on her tongue. He shushes her, settles into the chair she’s vacated and pulls her down into his lap. She curls into his chest immediately, longing to be held by him, grateful that he’s not going to urge her to move or talk for a while. 

No, despite his exhaustion and his desire to get home, he does nothing of the sort.  
  
If Mackenzie wants to look at the stars, then they’ll look at the stars.   
  


* * *

  
Eventually, it starts to rain.  


It’s a fine drizzle at first, barely noticeable, though it has Mackenzie tugging Will’s coat tighter around her petite frame. 

She’s not said much. Neither has he. And though he wants to ask questions, wants to gather how much longer they’ll be out here, wants to comfort and support her (though he supposes he can do as much without necessarily knowing what is wrong), he keeps quiet. She’ll talk when she’s ready.  


It starts to get heavier, the rain, but they pay it little mind.

Mackenzie eventually says something, though it’s not quite what he had expected.  
  
“We’ve been so focused on everything going on here,” she begins, and he has to strain to hear her because her head is still buried against his chest, and the heavy lashes of rain near drown out her voice. “That we’ve not even  _ thought _ about the wedding.”  


He knows it’s true, knows that their primary focus the last few weeks has been work. And, he has to admit, the guilt has been eating away at him.  
  
Himself and Mackenzie have wasted so much time, so many years where they could've been happy, could’ve been building a life together. And now, when they’re finally on the right path once more, they have so little time for each other that it feels they’re hardly back together at all. 

They’ve tried, of course. Dinner dates, a movie on the couch - nothing extravagant, but just a chance to be with one another, to get reacquainted and to fit into each other's lives once more. They’ve even tried to make time for each other at work; they’ll meet for a late, twenty minute lunch, or escape the office briefly of an afternoon to take a walk through the park opposite their building.   
_  
Anything. _   


Just to spend a little time together.  


But it’s not enough.  
  
They love their jobs, truly. But they love one another more. And he wishes that they could make more time for each other. Perhaps take a vacation. But work is consuming all of their time and energy lately that it’s just proving impossible. 

“We will,” he tells her, and his tone leaves no room for argument. “This weekend, we’ll sit down and we’ll make some decisions.”  
  
She tilts her head up towards him, and offers him a slight smile that would pack more punch were it not overshadowed by her heavy eyes and the slightly glazed look in them.   
  
And she wants to believe him, she does. She admires him for trying, or for at least attempting to put her mind at ease, whatever it is he’s doing. But it’s an empty promise, and she knows it. Nothing in their lives can be set in stone at the moment, not even a thirty minute chat about the wedding they’re both aching for (and honestly, she’d marry him _now_ because it’s she’s spent six years without him, and two before that loving him, and who gives a damn about flashy weddings when they’re finally together and happy again? But, no, they should do this properly. It’s just finding the damn time).   


She doesn’t want to argue, though, so she nods, offers him a sweet _okay, Billy_ that lacks any sort of conviction, and settles back against him.  
  
He’s about to say something else, though he’s not entirely sure what, when the faint splattering of rain suddenly gains momentum and they find themselves in a downpour that’s both bitterly cold and somewhat refreshing.

Mackenzie is up and out of his lap, gasping as she’s soaked through, and the wide eyed look he gives her as he glances between her and his now sodden clothes has her bursting into laughter. 

It’s freezing - absolutely _fucking_ freezing - but they honestly couldn’t care less. Soon, he’s laughing along with her, is up and out of his chair and pulling her into his arms as she throws her head back, let’s the rain soak her to the core. She’s sure they look an absolute sight, laughing and splashing about in the rain like a couple of children, but it doesn’t matter to either of them.  
  
It’s the lightest and the happiest they’ve felt in a long time. And, sure, they're likely to regret it in the morning, when one or the both of them wake up with a snotty nose, but for now they allow themselves a moment of immaturity, a moment of enjoyment amongst the inundation of responsibility they’re currently having to endure.

Mackenzie’s head is tilted towards the sky, her eyes partly shut against the rain. Her hair is dripping wet, her clothes are absolutely soaked, and what little makeup she had on has washed away.  
  
And, honestly, Will doesn’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.

So much so that he feels an intense desire to kiss her.  
  
And so he does.   
  
His arms encircle her, pull her flush against him, and he sees more than hears a gasp of surprise pass her lips. They watch each other for a brief, intense moment - his eyes are dark as he watches her tongue dart out to wet her lips, and her heart is racing as his grip tightens on her, wanting her impossibly closer.   
  
His lips are gentle against hers to begin with, a whisper, a feather-light touch against her own. It’s fleeting, but it leaves her aching for more. Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck as he kisses her once more, nails scratching against his scalp and he moans into her mouth.   


She pulls away first, though she doesn’t move far. Her breaths come out in heavy pants that he feels against her skin and she’s watching him with a hungry gaze, lips swollen and cheeks flushed a deep red.   
  
She’s never looked more beautiful.   


He grabs at her, pulls her back to him and captures her in a harsh kiss. Her heart is pounding. She hears it in her ears, and they’re pressed so tightly together that she’s certain he can feel it. She clutches at him as if she’ll float away if she lets go. And she might. Her limbs feel heavy, but she otherwise feels light. It’s a strange feeling that sends her head spinning and she has to break away again for a moment, has to gasp for air.  
  
“We can’t do this here, Billy,” she tells him firmly, though contradicts herself with a less certain “right?”  
  
“No, we can’t,” he agrees. His hand still finds its way beneath the hem of her blouse, though, and his cold fingers feel refreshing against her hot skin.   
  
They stand there for a moment, the rain pouring around them, and the terrace doors are _right there_ \- literally anyone could walk through them. But it’s not enough to stop his hand from creeping higher, to stop the calloused pad of his thumb from stroking against her nipple through her bra, her head tipping back and her lips parting.   
  
He takes advantage of the angle by pressing gentle kisses to the skin of her neck, his fingers pulling down the cup of her bra so that he can circle her nipple with his thumb. She whines, lost in the sensation, and it has him groaning in response, has him pressing tighter against her, his arousal evident even through the layers of their clothing.   
  
She’s urging him back then, pushing at his chest with her hands, and a confused expression crosses his face until he realises she wants him back in the chair. He quickly settles in before grabbing at her hips, pulling her into his lap, and the way she rocks against him has him breathing out her name, barely audible over the rush of the rain.   
  
It’s quick and a little awkward, the way she fumbles for his belt, the button and zip of his pants, the fabric of his boxers, the way she frees his erection from its confinements, the way her nimble fingers wrap around him.   
  
Will’s head drops back and his lips part. She's always been incredibly good at this. He relishes in it for a moment, just lets himself _feel_ , but it quickly becomes too much and he has to stop her because he definitely won’t last otherwise.   
  
Mackenzie takes control, eager as ever, and simply shunts her panties to the side instead of removing them completely before lifting herself up and sliding on to him. It takes her breath away, the speed of her actions surprising him, and he has to grasp onto her to steady himself.   
  
“Jesus _fuck,_ Mackenzie,” he stutters out. She giggles at the expletives and the complete lack of sense the exclamation makes. She gives them both a moment to adjust to one another, and when she’s certain Will isn’t about to lose all control, she starts to ride him.   
  
She’s unsure of whether it’s the location, the rain, or the knowledge that they could get caught at any given moment, but she’s sure she’s never been this turned on. Will’s fingers fiddle with the buttons of her blouse, only having the patience to open it halfway before he’s tugging on her bra and leaning forward to take one of her nipples in his mouth. His lips around it, sucking harshly and making her whimper, before soothing at it with his tongue. He repeats this a couple of times before moving to her other breast, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel _fucking incredible.  
  
_ She picks up the pace, and Will’s hips rise to meet hers on every downward stroke. He fumbles to fit one of his hands between them, rubs at her clit with tight circles of his thumb, and her breath begins to come out in short pants.   
  
Her fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his head and she tugs gently to get him to look at her. When he does, his eyes are dark and hungry and she gets lost in them for a moment before she presses her lips to his in a bruising kiss.   
  
It’s not long before she’s coming, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside her, of his fingers on her sensitive clit, of his lips on hers.  
  
He follows shortly after, crying out her name. She collapses against him, let’s him bury his face in the crook of her neck as she strokes her fingers through his hair.   
  
And, despite the cold they’ll both wake up with in the morning, she’s grateful that he’s provided her with such an adequate distraction for a little while. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments & kudos, I always appreciate them. 
> 
> Until next time ♥️


End file.
